


You need her. You do.

by myhead_myuniverse



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chap 2-3 smut, Dean getting better, F/M, Fighting, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy, Friends to Lovers, Guilt, Guilty Dean Winchester, Happy Dean, Happy Sam, Hunter!Reader, In Love, Love Confessions, Meeting in chap 1, Messed up Winchesters, No Wincest, Polyamory, Polyamory Relationship, Taking Care Of Dean Winchester, Taking Care of Sam Winchester, Vampires, falling, guilty, lots of fluff, threeway relationship, younger reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:33:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29888766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myhead_myuniverse/pseuds/myhead_myuniverse
Summary: “In a few weeks from now, you’re going to meet a girl.”Sam already nods, crease between his eyebrows showing his concentration. “She…” She shakes her head lightly, small smile coming back in its usual place. “Don’t let her go. You’ll need her.”Need her. She turns her head to look at him, just as Dean frowns. The man freezes a little, like he forgot who she is, forgot that she can’t read his mind but she’s pretty damn close to. “She’ll be good for you. For that darkness you hide from each other, from that monster inside your heads. She’ll be good for you.”
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester/You, Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Sam Winchester/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

** Chapter 1  **

A small voice calls them back as Dean’s fingers brush against the doorknob. He turns around, half a second after Sam, both curious and somewhat nervous for the words she’s going to lay on them. His eyes find hers, brown and dark and disconcertingly soft considering everything she sees, everything she hears daily.

The playful smile that used to tugged at the corner of her lips is gone, so he focuses and listens though he usually doesn’t. It used to be Sam’s thing to listen and remember and think but it sounds serious and important and _she’s never been wrong._

So, he hangs on to her lips and makes sure to not miss a word.

She’s a medium, a psychic or something like that, he’s not sure but she sees things, knows things and she’s saved their lives more than once. “In a few weeks from now, you’re going to meet a girl.”

Sam already nods, crease between his eyebrows showing his concentration. “She…” She shakes her head lightly, small smile coming back in its usual place. “Don’t let her go. You’ll need her.”

_Need her._ She turns her head to look at him, just as Dean frowns. The man freezes a little, like he forgot who she is, forgot that she can’t read his mind but she’s pretty damn close to. “Not everything is about hunting Dean.” She answers to a question that never came to life. “You don’t need her to hunt. Funny, because she doesn’t need you two either.”

But they’re going to need her, need her for what if it’s not to watch their back, to kill something, to… “She’ll be good for you. For that darkness you hide from each other, from that monster inside your heads. She’ll be good for you.”

Dean wants to argue, to reply, to deny everything that’s coming out of her mouth like a reflex, a habit he can’t really control. He fights against every one of his instincts, words stuck in his throat because she’s right, deep down, really deep down he knows she’s right.

There’s this little spark of hope inside of him, hope that this girl is real, that they’ll find her and that the medium in front of him is not wrong. Because up until now she’s never been, and he hopes she never will. “How do we know she’s the right one?” Sam asks because, of course, he believes her in a heartbeat, because he’s always let himself feel the things Dean prayed to forget.

She smiles at the younger brother, eyes sparkling from a kind of joy Dean’s never seen from someone working against the supernatural. “They say the eyes are the windows of the soul Samuel. You’ll see and you’ll know.” She turns to Dean like she’s got a different answer for him, like she knows the hunter never trusts what the eyes can tell, what the soul can show.

“Not every hunter has a broken smile, not every tongue birth lies. Sometimes a smile is all it takes to breathe again.” The hunter nods like he understood even a word of the sentence directing to him. He didn’t, but he trusts her, and it’ll make sense, someday.

_He hopes so._

***********************************************************

It’s been two months since they saw her, since she told them about the mystery girl and it’s the first time Dean doubts the psychic.

They never talked about it, Sam and him. Once they were back in the car, they acted like nothing happened, focusing back on the case and not on the fact that neither of them denied feeling broken and messed up.

He hates himself for hoping, for looking in every pair of eyes and through every smile. He hates himself for ignoring the disappointment in Sam’s face, the broken smirk he puts up when he understands that she’s not it. He hates himself but he knows his face displays the same frustration that his brother’s.

The girl is shaking under Dean’s fingers, long coat covering her frame and arms wrapped around herself. She stopped asking questions long ago, probably because of the lack of answers from Dean. She stopped crying too, but tears are still drying on her cheeks and her eyes are still red and swollen.

She’s been a witness to one of the murders going on in town. They found her in the middle of the forest, sobbing and running away from god knows what. She hasn’t smiled at him but her eyes looking back at the both of them are too broken to be what they’re looking for. Furthermore, the medium talked about a hunter and, well, they haven’t met one yet.

Dean presses his hand against the small of her back, reaching to take the motel room key from her fingers. They weren’t going to find the thing right now anyway, one murder every night and he already killed her friend. So, they agreed to take her back to her motel. “Sam.” She brokenly whispers, looking at the man through her lashes.

The taller hunter hums, calm and understanding eyes looking back at her. “I think I dropped my phone in the car, can…” Sam softly smiles at her and nods, turning back on his heels, walking straight for the impala.

Dean pushes the door open and suddenly something feels wrong. He looks around the motel room, everything seems normal and in its right place except for the wooden chair standing right in the middle. Something’s wrong, something feels really wrong.

He’s almost ashamed that it takes him this long to notice the handcuffs locked on each armrest. He turns around in a heartbeat, her face the last thing she sees before a hard pressure is applied on each side of his head. The sudden attack makes him dizzy, ears ringing and legs all of the sudden feeling really wobbly. His vision is blurry, black around the edges and it makes it hard to defend himself.

A big wave of force pushes him backwards and into the fucking chair. He doesn’t hear the cuffs locking around his wrists over the ringing, but he definitely feels them digging in his skin. It takes a while before he’s in control of his body and thinks about screaming for Sam to come help him.

But she’s quicker and slaps a piece of duct tape in front of his mouth.

His vision finally comes back to normal, his ears stop ringing and he finds back the control of his body. He feels like an idiot for believing her, for following her, for getting beat up by a fucking 18-year-old girl.

He looks at her, trying to put all his anger in the stare but she isn’t even looking back. She’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, focus staying on the knife moving between her fingers. All traces of the earlier tears are erased from her skin, all the worry he saw on her face or the shaking in her fingers just gone.

“Hey, I…” Sam’s voice makes both of their heads snap to the door, where the man stops on his track, looking at the scene. He calmly shuts the door behind himself, eyes never leaving the knife in her hands. “What’s going on?” He says carefully and she simply smiles at him.

Sam’s seen a lot of monsters smile at him before, seen it on a lot of bad people’s faces but this one doesn’t seem even a little evil. If it wasn’t for the fact that his brother’s tied up to a chair, he would trust this girl in a heartbeat.

She tracks his gaze to the weapon in her hands. “Oh, sorry.” She turns the knife to put the blade in her palm and extends her arm to give the handle to Sam. His heart is pounding in his chest, like it usually does when he’s put in that kind of position.

But something’s different, something feels really different.

He frowns in confusion, moving his fingers to take the knife away from her. “A bad habit.” When her hands find their place back to her lap, her fingers intertwine and play with each other in an anxious manner. She doesn’t look nervous and she’s probably not, Sam recognizes this as an old habit from someone who struggled with an anxiety disorder. A healthy coping mechanism, healthier than any of the ones him or Dean ever used, to be honest.

The younger brother almost chuckles at her words. “Tying people up or playing with knifes.” She looks between Dean and the knife, hissing sarcastically like she doesn’t know which one to choose.

“I’d say playing with the knife. Kidnapping people is probably more of a… Unhealthy activity.” The joke takes both brothers by surprise, so much that Sam almost laughs. The only thing keeping him from doing so is the potential danger his brother might be in.

His eyes move from her to Dean a couple of time before she intervenes. “I’m not going to hurt him.” The older brother rolls his eyes, screaming against the tape keeping him silent.

“If you’re not going to hurt him, why tie him up?” She actually chuckles at that and the sound makes Sam relax when it should’ve done the exact opposite. For some reasons he actually feels like she’s telling the truth, even with Dean’s panicked eyes locked on him.

“I needed to talk to you and him, but I knew he wouldn’t listen so, you know…” She waves her hand in Dean’s direction, to demonstrate what she’s done. The older hunter struggles against the handcuffs, looking at his brother like he’s going insane.

“You knew he wouldn’t listen?” Sam wonders, crease forming between his eyebrows. The girl talks like she met them before, like she _knows_ them.

There’s something comforting in her laugh and Sam almost curses out loud at the weirdness of it all. “Hum yeah. Dean Winchester, fearless, dedicated and strong hunter. Known for his recklessness more than his listening abilities.” The tape let’s out part of the groan coming from Dean’s throat. “Sam Winchester.” She continues, looking back at him with an innocent smile on her face. “The younger brother. Thoughtful, strategic, intelligent and still a powerful hunter. Known for his empathy, listening abilities more then his recklessness.”

He doesn’t know what to think, she clearly knows who they are and if she’s never met them then she obviously heard stories over the years. The girl’s young and she’s radiating a level of happiness and hope that he’s never seen in any hunter. Probably why they never even thought about her being one. “Do we know each other?”

She shakes her head, twisting her fingers a little harder. “No. I’ve heard stories. You’re kind of a superhero story for hunter’s kids and, well, I had a little angel on my shoulder, telling me the stories that were never told.” She shrugs the coat off her shoulders and Sam tries to not stare at the big scar across her neck. It looks like claws, like a werewolf attack probably. He wonders how she survived this, how she didn’t bleed out, jugular right under the healed injury.

He’s got so many questions for her. He pulls out another chair and sits to face her. “Your parents are hunters?”

The girl looks young, but still not as young as they were when they started out. Still, younger than they were when they started hunting by themselves. “They were. They died a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry.” He says honestly, he knows what it feels to lose his parents and he doesn’t wish it on anyone.

“It’s fine.” She smiles, like the memory of them is enough to make her feel happy that they lived, more than sad that they died. “Little angel told me they were together and happy in heaven.”

It almost feels too easy for him to get lost in the conversation and forget about his tied-up brother. “So, you know about angels then?”

After everything there’s still so many hunters that have never seen and/or still don’t believe in angels. “Mhm. My parents used to work with them when the seals were being broken as a thanks for this.” She says motioning the scars marking her skin. “I was a kid and a werewolf tried to kill me. The angel healed what he could with his torn-up grace and saved my life while almost killing himself.” A single dimple appears in her left cheek. Dean wants to scream, to move, to knock some sense in Sam’s head because what the fuck is his brother doing. The girl attacked him and tied him up to a fucking chair and Sam’s just talking to her like he’s known her for years.

“How do you do it?” The urge is suddenly to strong for him to keep the question to himself. “You look… Happy. Hopeful.”

She shrugs, eyes looking at the ground for the first time since she stopped pretending. "I used to not be. Anxiety, depression, ED and all that but, you know, my parents are happier up there than they’ve ever been down here. Once my time is done I’ll go to them, meanwhile I’m just… Living my life. I’m doing a few hunts here and there while still enjoying life, you know. Traveling across the country, getting to know the place I was born in and saving people along the way.”

She must be the strongest fucking person in the whole words. See as much shit as she as, coming as close to dying as she did and conquer life with a smile on her face, he doesn’t know how she do it.

The awe is clear on his face, but the moment is killed by Dean, moaning next to them and struggling against his restrains. “How old are you?”

“I’m 20.” She notices his eyes on Dean, tracing the imprint of her shoe on his shirt. “You’re wondering how I did it.” The younger brother is a little impressed by her reading skills.

Sam nods, little smirk tugging the corner of his lips. His brother got beat up by a twenty-year-old girl. “Did you know that the control center of balance is in your ear? When you put pressure on both ears at the same time it messes it up for a small amount of time depending on the pressure. Then I kicked him in the sternum, though he probably didn’t feel it that much, it was enough to make him fall backwards onto the chair.” The younger brother chuckles out loud and Dean’s expression turns into an offended one.

The older Winchester groans once more, trying to get someone to pay attention to him and get him out of the fucking chair. “What did you want to talk about?” Sam asks like he finally remembers why they’re in this exact position.

“Vampire nest, up in the woods where you found me. They’re probably like 8, I couldn’t get them all by myself so that’s why I ran, and I wasn’t sure who you were, so I pretended to be a victim. Then I heard your names were Sam and Dean but I had to try and see if it was really you. Dean was just plain annoying, dogging all of my questions and asking other questions instead. Anyway, I want in, I just need help.” Confusion flashes across his face. He still doesn’t understand why she had to tie his brother up.

“Yeah, sure. That’s why you didn’t want Dean in the conversation?” She shrugs, playful smile tugging the corner of her lips.

Dean tugs at the cuffs once more, metal digging in his skin making it a deep red. He still doesn’t understand why Sam isn’t helping him. “Well, for one, he was annoying. Then, can I guess exactly what he would’ve said when I asked to be a part of it?” 

The younger Winchester chuckles motioning for her to go and show him. “I bet it would go like: ‘No way darling, you’re going to get yourself killed. You should stay here and let us take care of it.’” He looks at his older brother and laughs. Yeah, it kinda sounds like something he would say. “Or like: ‘How old are you sweetheart? You should be in school, living your life not killing monsters. Let us take care of it, it’s dangerous.’ How close am i?”

She’s pretty damn close, kinda spot on. “I promise we’ll take you.” As soon as the words leave his lips, she throws the key at him, huge smile on her face.

She walks up to his brother first, ripping the tape in one pull. Dean curses loudly, glaring at her. “You’re fucking crazy.”

The smile feels cocky as she throws it at him. “Yeah, aren’t you?” Sam likes her already because that shuts Dean up right away. The older of the two man rubs his wrists, trying to take the ache away.

“We’re not taking her.” He says confidently, like no one can say otherwise and no one can change his mind.

“I’m the only one who knows where they are.” Sam watches the discussion like it’s a fucking tv show.

“I fucking hate you, I hope you know that.” The younger man knows his brother like the back of his hand, knows that he’s trying to sound confident and scary and angry. But he also knows it’s just a façade.

It’s like she sees right through him too. “No, you don’t.” The comment makes both of their eyes widen. What? She walks up closer to Dean, eyes never leaving his and smirk still tugging the corner of her lips. “You like me, but you’re not going to say it because I hurt you and _that_ you hate.”

Dean spins on his heels, turning to face his little brother. “I swear to god man.” He pushes through his teeth and Sam knows she’s right.

*********************************************************

She kills most of the nest and walks out with barely a scratch. Blood is pouring down Dean’s face and Sam can barely feel his shoulder where a huge gash is digging deep. Neither of them have ever seen someone move like she does, fight like she does. She didn’t throw many punches, but the way she dodges and moves around the monsters makes it quick and easy for her to throw her blade against their necks and move to the next vampire.

“You need stitches.” She says obviously at Sam, as the red spreads across his flannel. It hurts, it hurts, it burns. He’s starting to get lightheaded, whole right arm feeling numb. “Shut up.” She answers as he takes a breath in to start talking. It’s like she knew he was going to lie and tell her he’s fine.

She sits him forcefully on the motel bed, being careful to press on the uninjured shoulder. “I can take care of it.” Dean mumbles under his breath, swaying a little.

“Sure. I saw it hit you in the head.” The wound is barely an inch shy of his temple. “You probably have a big concussion. Sounds and lights probably hurt and your head is probably spinning, your vision mostly blurry and dots floating around. You can barely stand still on your feet.” He hates that she’s right, that it hurts so much but mostly that she’s knows he’s not ok. He’s not used to people knowing when he’s hurting.

She stitches Sam up like she’s done this all of her life. “Don’t throw up on the floor.” As soon as the younger Winchester wonders if she’s talking to him he sees his brother run for the bathroom half running in the doorframe before kneeling in front of the toilet.

She tugs the torn-up flannel back over his injured shoulder, before locking her eyes with his. It’s been a while since he’s seen worry in someone’s eyes, since he’s seen someone so obviously care for them.

_They say the eyes are the windows of the soul Samuel._

Her fingers travel up to his cheek, pressing her palm against his skin. “You’ll both be ok. Do you have a place to go, a base or something? You both can’t drive but I can, if you want to. It’ll be more comfortable than the motel and both your wounds needs to be disinfected.”

“We have. The keys are in Dean’s pocket.” She lets her hand slide down and nods, walking slowly to the bathroom.

She kneels by the older man, placing her cold hand against the back of his neck. “Dean.” She says softly, the man unconsciously leaning against her touch. Her voice is barely more than a whisper and the hunter’s glad because he can’t bear anything louder. “I know you feel like shit right now and I’m not gonna lie, it’ll feel like that for a few days but you have to trust me, I’ll take care of you ok.” Her hand slides down to rub soothing circles against his back and he simply nods, not trusting his voice to actually work. He pushes his head up, just a little, just enough to see her smiling face looking back at him.

The knot in his throat suddenly disappear, making it possible for him to take a few deep breaths and finally focus on something.

_Not every hunter has a broken smile, not every tongue birth lies. Sometimes a smile is all it takes to breathe again._

“You’ll be ok. Sam too.”

***********************************************************

Dean barely remembers the drive to the bunker or even the next two days before he’s back to being himself. He remembers the pain of the wound on his forehead being cleaned and the one-time Sam opened the light of his room making pain shoot right through his head. Other than that, he remembers sleeping a lot before finally waking up head still throbbing but not enough to keep him in bed another day.

Sam remembers being worried, remembers barely feeling anything when she washed up his bleeding shoulder and put a bandage over it. He remembers wondering if Dean would ever be ok. They weren’t strangers to concussions, but he doesn’t remember ever seeing one so bad before. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if she wasn’t there, spitting up facts and her knowledge of concussion just to help him calm down, which worked every time.

She actually stayed.

Sam didn’t ask or even really talked but she stayed. She changed his bandages, checked up on Dean and forced him to drink and eat. She took care of them like the two boys didn’t know how to and for a while Sam wondered if he ever knew. If either of them ever knew how to take care of each other.

His injury healed a lot faster than any of the others he’s ever gotten before, even though it was a lot worse than most of them (when he didn’t have Cas to help him out) and Dean got back on his feet a lot sooner than he though he would.

_She’ll be good for you._

Sam remembers precisely every word the psychic told them that day and he can’t help but know that this is it. It’s definitely her, he can feel it and from the look Dean keeps throwing at her, Sam knows that he can feel it too.


	2. Getting lost in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He gulps, her tongue swiping across her bottom lip. Hungry. 
> 
> She’s beautiful, Dean would be lying if he said otherwise, she really is. He’s not blind. She’s also half his age, which is probably the only reason why he’s still sitting, because, fuck, she’s perfect.

** Chapter 2 **

It’s been a year, a whole fucking year since she’s been by their side.

She came to the bunker to take care of them for a few days and she just… Never really left.

And Sam’s more than grateful for her. The medium was right, they needed her.

The younger man feels a lot lighter since she’s around. She brings some kind of happiness Sam never knew they could have. Like he’s seen it in other people, but he never knew he was allowed to have some.

Now he does.

And so does Dean. Sam never though he would ever see his brother smile like he does nowadays, he thinks he hasn’t seen that smile since their dad died, maybe even further than that, like before he left for Stanford.

It feels good, it feels…right.

She can read both of them like she’s known them for years. He found himself spilling secrets, spilling things he hid so fucking deep inside of himself that he didn’t even know they were still there. He found himself trusting and talking and… crying. It’s like he knows he can trust her, like he knows she’ll listen and understand and… stay.

Like whatever he says it’s never going to taint that little glimpse of hope and happiness and love she has inside of herself. That she’ll never look at him different or even associate the words ‘bad’, ‘wrong’ or ‘monster’ to his face.

He feels lighter, lighter than he has in years. Like the heavy weight quietly living inside of him just… disappeared.

But, for him, the most impressive thing she’s done is crack open Dean’s shell. No one’s ever done that before, no one’s ever made even a little opening in it, even less made it crumble to their feet.

She has.

Sam’s never seen Dean’s eyes so happy, so bright, so fucking… green.

And Dean, well… Dean doesn’t fucking know how that happened. How he could have unravelled so many dark and rotting feelings from so deep inside of himself. One day he just found himself talking, like it was the easiest thing he’d ever done. He found himself admitting things he never even dared to say out loud, things he barely admitted to his own self.

Things from before, from when his dad was still alive, from when Sam abandoned him. Things he thought he forgave himself for, things he thought he forgave Sammy for.

She got him to just feel, to open the condemned hallway that contained all of the emotions he kept buried inside of himself.

Sam can see his brother walk a little straighter, like the weight of his mistakes aren’t pushing down his shoulder anymore, aren’t folding his back a little to make him seem smaller.

Dean can see Sam smile a lot more, get more passionate about things he personally doesn’t really care about but makes Sammy happy.

_She’ll be good for you._

They never knew how much the psychic would be right.

Though things changed, some are still the same.

They still go on a hunt once in a while but less than they used to. Sometimes they just drive around, visit some places either one of them dreamed of seeing and it makes both brothers so happy to be able to somewhat have a life outside of hunting and being miserable.

And, you know, sometimes, when something brings you this much happiness things just… happen.

*****************************************************

Sam’s long gone to bed when Dean empties the bottle of whiskey in his glass. The alcohol which used to taste like despair, sorrow and pain, now taste like a laugh echoing through him, like a small amount of joy in liquid form.

She downs her own drink, trying to forget that the bottle was full when Dean opened it for them at the beginning of the night.

It’s been a while since alcohol has had any kind of effect on the hunter, since he’s been drunk. Well, he’s not drunk, and neither is she but they’re so damn close to be.

He throws his head back against the couch, it feels heavy and it gets hard to keep his eyes open. He can hear her move in the background of his thoughts, move to the music and humming a song he’s not sure he’s ever heard. He concentrates on the faint sound of the radio playing through the room. No, he’s never heard it.

Slowly, her hums turn into words until she’s singing in a tone of voice that makes him strong enough to open his eyes and move his head to look at her.

_‘Put your hands all over_

_Put your hands all over me_

_Put your hands all over  
Put your hands all over me’_

He gulps, her tongue swiping across her bottom lip. Hungry.

She’s beautiful, Dean would be lying if he said otherwise, she really is. He’s not blind. She’s also half his age, which is probably the only reason why he’s still sitting, because, fuck, she’s perfect.

_‘So come down off your cloud  
Say it now and say it loud  
Get up in my face  
Pretty little boy, come make my day  
Put your hands all over me’_

She says ‘boy’ instead of girl and that almost makes him break, fingers twitching against his thigh. She doesn’t miss it, of course she doesn’t because he can never fucking get away with anything. He constantly feels like an open book laid in front of her eyes.

Her lips move in a smirk that makes his heart skip a beat.

It takes two strides and she’s standing in front of him. Her gaze never leaving his face, waiting for any kind of reaction that’ll make her step back though she doubts she’ll get to see one.

The tip of her fingers trail from his knee and up his thigh until they reach the back of his hand.

Sometimes Dean wishes he was strong enough.

He flips his hand over, closing his fingers around hers and pulling slightly.

But he’s not, he’s not strong enough.

The tug feels like an invitation to keep going as she straddles his lap. She pulls her hand away from his and wraps her arms around his neck.

Their noses brush against each other and Dean catches a glimpse of her lips parting slightly. _Fuck._ He’s the one that brushes their lips together, giving her the opportunity to pull back and run so fucking far she’ll never see him again.

She doesn’t.

She leans forward, pushing their mouths together. It’s slow and soft and nothing like any of the kisses he’s had before. His fingers dig in her waist, afraid that it’s a dream, that he’ll wake up and the feeling will disappear.

It doesn’t.

The opposite really, it gets more real as she pushes a little harder opening her mouth just a little more to let his tongue slip against hers. The kiss gets a little hungrier, her fingers running through his hair, tugging slightly as he explores her mouth.

It turns dirty in just a roll of her hips against his. It pulls a moan out of her throat that he swallows greedily, hands slipping against her back to pull her even closer. He pushes against her a little harder, tongue stroking hers and moving a little more quickly, a little more forcefully.

She finally pulls back for air, electricity rushing through her body when his lips find their way to her neck, pressing kisses down her scar. He notices the shiver running through her and he stops, pulling away just enough so she can’t feel anything but the little puffs of air coming from him. “Sensitive?” She can almost hear his smirk as he mumbles the words.

“Yeah.” He barely chuckles before going back to work, worshipping the old injury like it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen before continuing his way down to her shoulder. His fingers find the hem of her shirt and pulls it slowly over her head before throwing it somewhere on the floor. Dean resumes his trail, kissing down her collarbone, sucking a mark or two before continuing. “Your room?” She pants once he can’t go lower, their sitting position on the couch keeping him from doing so.

He nods, making sure her legs are tightly wrapped around his waist before getting up and moving both of them to his room.

The hunter lays her on his bed and takes his own shirt off before pressing his mouth and tongue against the skin of her stomach.

He bites down her hip bone before going to work opening up and getting rid of her pants and panties. When he looks back at her he sees that she got rid of her bra, laying down perfectly naked right in front of his eyes.

He was right, she’s fucking gorgeous.

He leans his cheek against her knee, admiring the view before turning a little to press his lips against the skin there. He makes his way up to her core and when he finally stops he can admire the ribbon of bruises he left behind. Dean’s always been a possessive guy, he loves leaving marks, making others know what’s his, leaving her memories of all the filthy thing he’s done to her.

A finger slides against her wet lips before pushing in easily. She’s so fucking wet for him. A second one joins the first before he moves them. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

Her teeth dig in her bottom lip trying to keep some embarrassing sounds from rolling off her tongue. She manages up until Dean close his lips around her clit sucking lightly. “Fuck, Dean.” She moans out loud, fighting against everything not to buck her hips against his face.

He smiles against her skin, taking the opportunity to slip a third finger next to the two others.

She grows impatient quickly, fingers finding the back of his neck to pull him away and then back up into another filthy kiss.

The hunter doesn’t notice how painful his erection actually is until she rolls her hips, her naked core rubbing against his clothed one. He moans against her, thrusting forward, reaching back for some pressure, some relief.

She pulls away from the kiss and uses all of her strength to flip them over so she’s straddling him. She doesn’t waste time and get rid of the last pieces of clothing covering him up. His cock, finally free, hit the naked skin of his stomach, leaving a wet spot on it.

His dick is red and leaking and so fucking… _big._ She gulps at the sight but doesn’t spend much time detailing it before wrapping her fingers around and moving up and down.

A groan escapes the back of his throat and that’s probably the hottest sounds she’s ever heard. Like he’s done minutes before she presses her lips against his stomach. It takes a few seconds before he notices that she’s kissing every one of the small scars decorating his body.

He shudders, sucking his bottom lip in his mouth. _Fuck._

Her hand picks up a pace, making it harder and harder for Dean to focus on anything but the intense feeling rushing through him.

And as quickly as it came it’s gone, skin tingling where they used to be connected. He looks down, not wanting to miss anything and watches her climb up his body and put herself over him.

Her wet core slides over his hard cock and they moan in unison.

Her hand finds its way back to him and she lines him up before sinking down until their hips meet each other. She moans loudly, pressing both her hands against his chest to keep her balance.

His own find her hips, helping her as she pushes herself up before letting herself fall back down. “Fuck, sweetheart. You feel so good, so fucking good.”

He helps her set a slow pace and watches as she throws her head back. She’s so full and the stretch feels so good, his cock hitting every little spot that’ll make her scream once he’ll pick up his own pace.

They keep it going for a little while, moans and whines mixing up with his groans before her thighs start shaking. “Dean, please.” He takes it as his cue and flips them over.

Her ankles locked tightly behind his back and he smirks against the skin of her neck. “Hold on tight baby girl.”

He pulls his hips back in a torturously slow pull before slamming back in. The movement makes her scream half from the surprise, half from the pleasure rushing through her. Dean’s not one to waste time, setting up a fast and brutal pace.

Pleasure keeps crashing into her like waves, loud moans keeping Dean going as he hides his face in the crook of her neck. He can barely keep his own from spilling from his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Their orgasms are building a lot faster than any of them would like, not wanting it to end.

Her nails dig in the skin of his back as his finger find her sensitive bundle of nerves. She’s close, so fucking close and she knows, by the change of rhythm and more sloppy thrusts that he is too.

She cums first, falling over the edge, wave of pleasure taking over her body. Her walls close tightly around him and it only takes a few more seconds before he follows her, burying himself deep inside of her body.

He stays over her for a while, their skin sticking together, not that either of them really cares. He tries to take in as much as he can, from her fingers in his hair, to the feeling of her skin against his.

He finally pulls away, making her hiss as he slips out and rolls over.

She doesn’t let him get lost in his head and curls around his side, laying her head on his chest. The sound of his heartbeat rapidly lulls her to sleep.

He lays there awake for a little while before he finally drifts off too.

*******************************************************

What the fuck did he do?

His heart is pounding in his chest, head hurting from all the alcohol he drank the night before.

Still, what the fuck did he do?

He slept with a girl that could easily be his daughter, with a girl half his age. He’s easily done worse in his life but for whatever reason, it makes an uneasy feeling settle in his chest. “I didn’t think you would start panicking this early in the morning.” She throws like she knew he would react like that all along.

Who is he kidding? She probably did, she knows every fucking thing he’s going to do, everything going on in his head before he even says or do them. “I…” He doesn’t even have the words to explain himself.

Why is he panicking?

Yeah, maybe because it feels like corruption or like he took advantage of her while she was drunk. “You..?” She frowns, chin pressed against his chest to look up at his face. “You don’t know?”

He swallows back every lie living on the tip of his tongue.

He lets her fingers trace shape against his chest as the guilt settles in. “You know, Dean…” She starts off before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “I’m going to go eat the breakfast Sam’s probably cooking right now and when you decide if you want to talk about the drunk thing or the age thing first come get me.”

She kisses him once more before pushing herself out of bed. Without his permission she steals a flannel that she uses to cover her naked body before leaving his room like she didn’t just read his mind.

He just stays there, stunned, heart pounding in his chest and hands shaking a lot more than they should.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

***********************************************************

He doesn’t stay in his bed for long before joining the two in the kitchen.

Sam doesn’t hide his surprise, seeing his brother up this early, but he doesn’t comment on it.

The older brother watches the both of them move around the kitchen, he’s not sure what they’re cooking because all he sees is Sam’s hand settling against the small of her back, is his brother’s body brushing against hers as he leans to reach for something. All he sees is the familiarity in which they just… Touch.

He’s always known Sam was a touchy guy, that he didn’t shy away from physical contact, not like he does, but there’s something about seeing it that makes a mix of weird feelings spread in his chest.

He looks away barely a second before lifting his eyes back to them to see Sam press his lips against her temple.

Was he that blind all along?

Was it something they shared in front of him, but he never noticed?

Their fingers dance across each other with such ease that he knows he simply didn’t look, simply didn’t pay attention. “You ok?” Sam worries, sitting in front of him with his breakfast.

“Hm yeah, sorry. I’m just… tired.” Yeah, right, it’s such a good idea to lie to the two person that can see right through him. Sam still doesn’t comment and nods, unsure.

She joins them just a second later, smile huge and happy on her face. There isn’t even a hint of regret or pain or fear drawn on her features and he wonders if something’s wrong with him.

In the end he does what he’s good at. Get angry.

Angry that she’s smiling and happy with not a care in the world when he’s clearly struggling with the thoughts in his head. She could be his fucking daughter, that’s what he’s been telling himself since she started living with them. That they could take care of her, give her something resembling a family, though he tries to forget that in reality she took care of them a lot more than they took care of her.

He’s angry, angry at himself mostly.

She laughs at something Sam said, hand closing around his little brother’s arm.

It gets harder and harder to breathe as words invade his brain.

He can feel both pair of eyes follow him as he walks out of the room.

“What’s up with him?” Sam asks once he’s sure his brother is far enough, not to hear them.

She slides her legs to the side, sitting to face the brunet with a smile up on her face. She takes the hand that was brushing against her leg and places it on the inside of her own thigh. Sam smiles, shaking his head slightly before digging his fingers in her flesh.

She takes his wrist and pulls it higher and higher until the skirt she’s wearing is pushed up enough to show the trail of bruises on the inside of her thigh.

It’s the first place the younger Winchester’s eyes drift, fingertips pressing a lot harder against her naked skin like he wanted to make some of his own. “Dean?” He breathes out, although he’s pretty sure of her answer.

She nods, and he frowns, why the hell was he so grumpy then? Like she could read his mind she just rolled her eyes. “You know your brother, he feels guilty because we drank yesterday and because I’m half his age I guess.”

Sam chuckles, yeah, that’s such a Dean thing to do. “You should go see him.”

She presses a quick kiss on Sam’s lips before getting up to follow the stubborn brother. “I was waiting for him to think it through first.”

**********************************************************

She finds him within seconds, laying on the couch in a room he claimed as his own when he moved in.

He sits as he sees her, not quite meeting her eyes but not telling her to go either. “You were drunk.” He says to the floor.

“Barely tipsy, I could’ve said no but I wanted it so I didn’t.” The man nods, half of the pressure floating off his chest. She watches as Dean’s fingers find the hem of his sleeves, playing and tugging at the fabric. A somewhat healthy habit he picked up when things got too much instead of drinking himself half dead.

“I could be your dad.” Yeah, he definitely could be, not that it really matters.

She shrugs, sitting on the floor just in front of him, she could easily reach to touch him, but she doesn’t and simply lets him get out the things pressing against his chest.

“Yeah, you could.” He would be surprised to see the easiness in which the words roll of her tongue if he didn’t know her so well. She just doesn’t care.

She chuckles lightly, forcing Dean to finally look up at her with a confused expression. “It’s just, we see so much dark shit and live through so many horrible things and we’re here just… Age difference, really?”

He almost laughs too, it’s probably the most normal problem he’s ever had. He shakes his head, trying to focus back on the situation in front of him. “You and Sammy…”

He doesn’t even know what to say. He’s seen them together, things are a lot more easy and fluid between them that they’ll ever be with him. “Do you know the difference between you and Sam?” She cuts him off before he even thinks of saying something dumb.

Dean huffs, there’s a lot of differences between them. Like how much more damaged he is, how much Sam’s a better person than he is, how… “Sam knows his life is messed up, but he lets himself grasp every little piece of normal he can get. Sam lets himself have, lets himself feel because he knows that life can take everything away in a heartbeat.”

In other words, Sam lives his life without being scared of tomorrow when Dean can only overthink the simple things instead of admitting that they make him feel happy and keeping them. “But you… You’re so scared of being happy and get it taken away that you prefer to be just sad and push off everything getting in the way.”

She’s definitely not wrong and that’s maybe what hurts the most. “Age difference Dean. A lot of people, famous or not, are dating people twice their age. It’s not a problem except in your head. Nobody really cares. I’m legal, so are you and that’s the only thing that matters. That and the fact that I love you and you love me.” He sighs loudly, why does she have to always be right.

She reaches for his hand, playing with his fingers like she does with her own when she’s nervous. “I’ve seen you with Sam.” Is the only thing he finds as an answer to what she just said. “The way you two move together, how happy you are, how you understand each other.”

She smiles widely, never letting go of his hand. “Yeah, well, Sam and I have been doing this for a while now.” A breath stays stuck in his throat. What? Sam and her have been…

“You what?” Dean’s panicked face doesn’t even make her flinch. She knew he would be confused, that he wouldn’t understand, or even feel guilty for standing between what Sam and her had. “Does he know about last night?”

“Yeah, he does.” What the actual fuck is going on? Does Sam not fucking care that they’ve slept with the same girl? “Look Dean, I’m in love with Sam. I can’t deny that. But, you know what? I’m also in love with you.”

He doesn’t know when they age difference conversation turned into a polyamory one, but it didn’t erase the confusion from his face. “It was easier with Sam, because, like I told you, Sam’s not afraid to want and to have. So, you know, things happened and I…We kept it from you because I didn’t want you to look away because you thought I was Sam’s.”

“So, you’re not Sam’s?” He manages to get out through the lump in his throat. Her grip tightens around Dean’s hand, the only sign that she’s somewhat a little scared to lose him, scared that he’ll walk away.

“Yeah, I am. But I can be yours too.” The slight nod of Dean’s head still doesn’t make relief kill her fear. “Sam said you taught him how to share when he was younger.”

That makes Dean smile a little, remembering old memories of dirty motels and raising Sammy almost by himself. “I guess I did.” The playful tone makes a beginning of a smile wake up on her face.

It wasn’t anger or guilt or the age difference that bothered him. She was right saying that he simply feared getting his happiness taken away.

He loves her, he does. Probably always has, since that day she fought him in her motel room. Every one of his defence mechanisms are telling him to fight against it, to say no and just leave. Let Sammy have her and shield his heart as much as he can. But as his eyes finally find hers, he just… can’t.

He wants her, he wants her so much it hurts and she’s just offering on a silver plater. He can’t say no, no matter how scared he is, no matter how unsure he is about this whole polyamory thing. He can’t, because he loves her and if Sammy loves her too then good, he loves seeing his brother happy.

And even though, sharing with his brother sounds a little fucked up, it’s fine. Nothing about their childhood, nothing about their lives was even a little bit normal, everything all kinds of fucked up, this was far from the top of the list.

He nods to himself, leaning forward to slowly catch her lips with his, in a slow kiss. “Ok.” He breathes out, pulling away.

“Ok?” She mumbles, mouth still brushing against his.

“I love you.” Is the only thing she hears before getting lost in the wave of love pressed against her lips.


	3. I know that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is that my shirt?” The sound makes her jump, startle scream leaving her lips. Sam’s standing in the doorway, smirk tugging the corner of his lips. It’s 4 in the fucking morning, she only got up to get a glass of water, not prepared to see anyone awake. 
> 
> “You scared the shit out of me.” They chuckle at the same time, Sam pushing himself away from the doorframe to join her by the kitchen island. 
> 
> “Is it?” He repeats, motioning the black shirt that’s so obvious his it makes bright red paint her cheeks.

** Chapter 3 **

*A few months before chapter 2*

“Is that my shirt?” The sound makes her jump, startle scream leaving her lips. Sam’s standing in the doorway, smirk tugging the corner of his lips. It’s 4 in the fucking morning, she only got up to get a glass of water, not prepared to see anyone awake.

“You scared the shit out of me.” They chuckle at the same time, Sam pushing himself away from the doorframe to join her by the kitchen island.

“Is it?” He repeats, motioning the black shirt that’s so obvious his it makes bright red paint her cheeks. It doesn’t help that the fabric is barely covering her panties, one quick movement and he’ll most likely see them.

“Yeah.” She admits, finally looking back at him. She did steal it from his drawer to wear at night. Mostly because it smelled like him and Sam always smells good and safe. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” He chuckles, looking at her up and down, liking the view in front of him. “You look good in my clothes.” The words escape his lips before he can swallow them back up. Fuck.

Is he flirting with her? She hopes with all of her heart that he is. “Yeah?” She teases, looking at him through her lashes.

She can see the muscles in his jaw as he closes his teeth tightly together. He often does this when he doesn’t know what to answer and she knows that. “Yeah.” He finally breathes out.

She hops on the counter, shirt riding up her thigh just a little but not enough to show the piece of red fabric barely covering her up under the shirt. It’s the first place Sam looks before locking his eyes on her face, hoping she didn’t catch it.

But she did.

She opens up her legs a little more, making his bottom lip disappear between his teeth. “What are you doing?” He hisses once he understands what she’s doing, when he understands that she’s playing with him.

“I’m not doing anything.” She answers with an innocent tone, her fingers finding the hem of the shirt and riding it up a little more.

“Fuck.” He curses under his breath.

Within seconds he’s on her, fingers digging in her thighs as he catches her lips with his in a dirty and passionate kiss.

She pushes against him, trying to follow his lead, letting his tongue stroke hers and explore every part of her mouth. Her hands found their way to his long hair, tugging a little to pull away and catch her breath.

His mouth slides to her jaw, slightly biting and licking his way down to her scar. She shivers, the healed skin still sensitive. He pulls away to look at her face. “You ok?” Halfway through pulling back before she nods eagerly.

“Yeah. The scar, it’s just sensitive.” She smiles, before slightly pulling to bring his mouth back against her skin. He smiles against her, softly pressing his tongue and lips against the mark, enjoying the way her body responds, shivers running through and quiet moans escaping her throat.

“Sam.” She whines, hands finally tugging at his shirt. He gets the message before pulling it off and throwing it somewhere on the floor. When he comes back, he pulls her into another kiss, finally letting his hands wander under the stolen shirt.

He doesn’t pull it off but tug it up until it’s only covering the upper half of her body. “You look so fucking good in my clothes. Fuck, I hope you know that.” He kisses his way down her neck once more, until he reaches the uncovered part of her collarbone, kissing, sucking, biting the skin until it shows a deep purple mark.

She’s so focused on the feeling of his mouth of her body that she doesn’t even notice his fingers finding her panties and tugging them lightly. She leans against his large shoulders to lift her hips up and let him pull them down and throw them on the floor with his shirt.

“Sam, please.” He chuckles lightly, hands not moving faster even as she pushes her legs even further apart. Instead, he pulls her back into another kiss, swallowing up the whines leaving her throat.

His hands slip on her inner thighs, stroking the skin but not really moving towards where she wants him most.

That man is just a fucking tease. Lips pushing against hers, tongue expertly moving, making her melt under his fingertips but not erasing the wave of want rushing through her. God. She wants him so bad. “Please Sam, please I…” She cuts herself off, rolling her hips forwards.

“You what?” He teases, fingers inching closer to her core but never really reaching it. “Tell me babygirl, what is it?”

The tone of his voice is just too much, it’s deep and rough and so fucking hot. “I want you. Wanted you for so long.”

He closes his mouth to muffle what resembles a moan before roughly pressing their lips back together. His fingers finally find her core, feeling the wetness against his digit before finally, fucking finally pushing in. “God.” She moans out loud, throwing her head back.

“Wanted you too, too long.” He admits, burying his face in her crook of her neck, mouth toying with her scar but still being carefully not to bite too hard or suck too harshly.

He moves his finger back and forth and she’s so needy and desperate to feel the rest of him that she rolls her hips to meet his pace.

One finger quickly becomes two and then three, thumb pushing and rubbing circles against her clit. “Fuck, Sam. I need you, come on.” He takes it as an invitation, pushing his pyjama pants down to his ankles. He’s been hard for a fucking while, erection painfully rubbing against the fabric of his pants but all he could think about was her, was her moans spilling in his ear, was her body reacting to his, was having her under him after dreaming of it for so long.

The position they’re in doesn’t let her see how he looks completely naked, but she bets he looks somewhat godly. Bet his cock, is long and large and fucking red against his toned stomach.

The muscles in his arms bulge as he pulls her a little off the edge in a position that’ll make it easier for him to just slide in. His palms settle against her ass, holding her so she doesn’t fall while one of her hands find its way to his shoulder and the other one to his flexing bicep holding herself up a little to help him. “Ready?” He breathes out in her ear.

“Yes, please Sam.” The Winchester brother doesn’t need to be told twice and sinks into her in one swift motion.

She was pretty spot on. It doesn’t hurt really, but she can feel his cock stretching her open and the tip of it hitting spots she never knew felt so good deep inside of her. “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re taking me so well, feels so good, so tight around me.”

She should’ve known he loved the sound of his own voice during sex, so does she by the way, but she should’ve known. He’s not the most talkative person in his day to day life, it’s not that surprising that he is in bed.

She rolls her hips signalling for him to finally start moving. The first thrust feels like fucking heaven making the both of them moan in unison. "Give it to me Sam, come on.” They would be soft and slow another time, now she needs it fast and rough.

An evil spark wakes up in his eyes, hips slamming forward harshly making a high-pitched whine escape her lips.

Exactly like that.

He sets up a fast and brutal pace making her nails dig in his arm and his fingers dig deep in the flesh of her ass. It’s probably gonna leave bruises, well, she wishes it will. “So fucking beautiful, so gorgeous.” Words are spilling from his lips right in her ear as his thumb finds her clit once again. “Feels so fucking good.”

“Sam, Sam, Sam.” She can’t barely think, the pleasure overwhelming. The only thing going through her mind is him, and the feeling of his cock inside of her.

And just when she thought it couldn’t get better, he changes the angle slightly making a scream escape her throat. “Fuck, right there.”

“There, babygirl?” He thrusts one more time, hitting the same spot that makes a similar noise leave her mouth. He keeps the angle, thrusts getting slower but so fucking hard it makes her vision blurry.

With every movement she clenches a little tighter around him, trying to contain her orgasm or control the intense feeling rushing through her but it only makes electricity shoot through Sam. God.

“You close baby? You gotta cum all over me? Cum on my cock?” She whines and nods her head, under Sam’s heated gaze. “Good girl.” He breathes out against the shell of her ear and it’s all it takes for her to finally fall over the edge.

Her walls contract around his dick triggering his own orgasm not long after hers.

The brunet lays his head on her chest, arms not even shaking as he still holds her up against the counter. They stay there a little while, catching their breaths as she runs her fingers through his long hair.

He finally moves under her fingertips, pressing kisses against her sternum and than up her collarbone. He makes his way up, until he’s finally able to slide their lips together in a slow and sloppy kiss.

He lets her go after a few seconds, laying his forehead against hers. “We should move.” She finally says softly. “Before you drop me, or the counter is permanently imprinted in my back.”

He chuckles, pressing a quick kiss against her lips before sliding out of her and letting her finally put her feet on the ground. She doesn’t expect them to feel so wobbly as she puts her whole weight on them almost falling forward.

Sam catches her though, hands wrapped around her waist. “For the record, I would never drop you.” She chuckles, holding on to his forearms.

He ends up carrying her to his bedroom.

He lays her on his mattress before sliding under the covers with her and pulling her body against his.

Neither of them is sure what to say or if they should just fall asleep and talk tomorrow morning, considering the 5 flashing red on his alarm clock. “I love you.” Sam finally blurs out, unsure if she’s still awake or even if it’s a good idea to say it out loud.

She moves in his arms and his heart almost stops beating in his chest. “Look, I know the age thing is…” She doesn’t even let him finish and kisses him to shut him up.

“I love you too.” She smiles once she pulls away and he can’t help but tug her back into another loving kiss. He watches her moves to straddle him putting all of her weight on his hips, both hands holding herself above him. “I love you too.” It’s barely loud enough so he can hear it and he’s not sure he’s felt this happy since… Since maybe the day he met Jess all those years ago.

He kisses her soft and slow and reassuring. His fingers are digging in her skin like he doesn’t believe she’s really there, like she could be a dream, an hallucination. “Sam…” She half moans before he brushes his lips against hers. It’s not even a kiss, but it’s enough to make her heart pound against her ribcage and a smile stretch the corner of her lips.

She’s the first one to move away, pressing soft and delicate kisses across his jaw. He can barely feel them as he moves his head to the side to let her explore.

His eyes flutter shut for barely a second before the warmth is gone.   
When he looks back at her, she’s sitting up straight, worry drawn across her face.

He pushes himself on his forearm, his other hand rubbing her thigh in a comforting way. What the hell just happened?

“Hey…” He breathes out, cold and scared and confused.

Her voice is shaky, unsure like she’s scared of the reaction, scared of the words pushing each other in her head. “I love you. God, I love you so much but…”

Fuck, there’s a ‘but’.

She takes a deep breath, fingers tracing his clenched jaw. “I love him too.”

_Him._

‘Him’ as in Dean, as in she’s in love with his brother too.

She’s surprised by the smile that stretches his lips and the kiss he lays on her. “I know that.” And that’s true, he’s always known that she loved Dean and somehow, it doesn’t really bother him.

Love is love right? What if someone has too much love inside of themselves to love only one person? Who was he to deny her that hm?

He was only lucky that she decided to give him some of it.

And Dean, well, Dean deserves more than anyone the amount of love she can give him. He deserves it, he _needs_ it.

The thought doesn’t make even an once of bad feelings rise up in his chest. He’ll gladly share her with Dean when the time comes.

“I love you.” He says once more, kissing her one last time.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, it means a lot. Leave a comment if you want.  
> Sorry for the mistakes, english is not my first language.
> 
> Love you,  
> Lauren xxxx


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